


Enchantment

by faeryn



Series: Enchantment 'verse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Bisexual Disaster Yuri Plisetsky, Correspondence Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Honestly just rated T+ because Yuri has a potty mouth, Kinda humour, M/M, Miscommuication, Sharing a Bed, brief reference to suicide, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: When Yuri finds that the tabloids and trash magazines have started a rumour that he and Mila are dating, he decides to sell them a lie for his own amusement.He's not prepared for that lie to backfire on himquiteas spectacularly as it does, however.Or; How Yuri and Otabek realised they were in love all along, completely by accident.





	Enchantment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McBangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/gifts).



> This fic is over a month overdue, and frankly I just need to finish and post it T____T So I apologise in advance for the rather rushed ending! I started writing a different ending, realised it was going to take another 5k+ words to complete and nearly had a nervous breakdown, so I changed it xD I hope it isn't too bad!
> 
> My beta is asleep and hasn't yet had chance to look at this (it's like 3:30am) so some things might change once she does! It also means any errors are completely my own, so apologies for my dreadful SPAG and punctuation ahaha...
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy! <3

Yuri wasn’t entirely sure when it had started. He’d be the first to admit he was fairly self-absorbed and didn’t always notice what was going on around him, but after the third time he caught someone taking photographs of him and Mila on their daily post-practice juice run he began to wonder how long _that_ had been a thing. Were people really so desperate for photos of either of them that they’d want to see them exhausted and bickering after practice?

Mila had grown in popularity in the last few years, and not just because of her association with the prodigy who won his first ever Senior Grand Prix. For that he was grateful, he respected her as an athlete as much as a friend and it would have irritated him if people had only started noticing her skill and talent for such a stupid reason. And, of course, he still had a rabid fanbase, so it stood to reason that the two of them would be in demand by the media. He just wished they would stick to the organised interviews instead of snapping candids like some kind of lame paparazzi. Whatever.

“Have you seen this bullshit?” Mila asked him, shoving the magazine she’d been reading across the table at him and taking a long sip of her drink.

The article in question was scathing, Yuri noted as he quickly skim-read it, and did _not_ have a lot of nice things to say about Katsuki in particular. Apparently they blamed him for Viktor’s retirement early last year, even though he was really far too old to continue to compete at the same level as everyone else by now. Even Katsuki only had a couple more years left in him. Did these stupid reporters not realise that you could only do this for so long? The writer had pulled short of using actual slurs, but it was clear that they did not approve of homosexual relationships in general, or this pair of gay skaters in specific. Yuri rolled his eyes and shoved the magazine back at Mila, fixing her with an angry glare.

“Just another fucking homophobe printing shit again. I mean honestly, what the actual fuck do these people think they’re gonna achieve writing this crap? It’s 20-fucking-21, nobody cares anymore. Guess we should just be glad they don’t know about us,” he laughed, tapping one perfectly manicured nail on the table and swigging his drink like a fucking heathen.

“I’ll drink to that,” Mila chuckled, raising her plastic cup with a wink.

That should have been the end of that, but apparently the universe had other ideas. The following week Yuri was in the grocery store picking up a few essentials, and tampons for Mila who lived in the same building and had texted him about 400 sobbing emojis interspersed with the chocolate emoji and a red dot he assumed was to indicate the arrival of Aunt Flo, when a picture of himself and Mila caught his eye from the magazine rack. It had clearly been taken candidly, so he braced himself for what ridiculousness they had come up with now before he let himself look at the headline.

 

‘RISING STAR YURI PLISETSKY IN SECRET AFFAIR WITH FELLOW SKATER???’

 

The three question marks were pushing it a little bit, Yuri thought as his lip curled in disgust, and Mila _has a name for fuck’s sake._ He took a photo of the magazine cover, because no way in hell was he fucking buying it, and stomped to the counter, throwing his goods onto it with one hand while he furiously texted Otabek with the other.

 

 _Have you seen this shit???_ He wrote, then deleted two of the question marks on principle. Yuri gave the poor sales associate the barest amount of attention as he paid her and all-but fled the store, mortified and fuming in equal measure.

 

 **?? No? I’m not generally in the habit of checking out Russian trash mags though.** Beka’s reply came through moments later, and that was a bare-faced fucking lie. Yuri knew Beka and Mila compared notes regularly on what the trash magazines were saying about everyone, and he told him so.

 

**Ok, maybe sometimes. But I haven’t seen that one.**

 

_Why are they all so fucking obsessed with our relationship statuses!_

 

Otabek’s text box displayed the bouncing dots a few times but no reply was forthcoming and Yuri was almost home. He wasn’t really in the mood to go and see Mila anymore, but he needed to drop off her stuff… A solution conveniently presented itself in the form of Katsuki and Viktor, who looked like they were just returning from walking Makkachin and Katsuki’s new puppy Kenichi.

“Drop these in with Mila, would you?” Yuri demanded more than asked, handing the bag to Katsuki and breezing past them without a second glance. He hoped the cold shoulder would be enough to deter them from asking any questions, he really needed to go and sulk alone for a while.

Finally, _finally_ , his phone pinged a new notification from Beka just as he closed his apartment door behind himself. It took a lot of willpower, but Yuri managed to drop a handful of food in Potya’s bowl and give her a moment’s fuss before throwing himself onto his couch to settle in for a long afternoon of brooding.

 

 **A quick Google and some creative paywall-bypassing** Yuri snorted, Otabek hated to pay for this shit as much as he did, **and I got the rest of the article. Apparently some reporter overheard you two talking about V &Y, and said something like ‘good job they don’t know about us’, which they are taking to mean the two of you are in a relationship. I’m guessing not, since that’s something you’d probably have told me? **

 

_Of course I would idiot and we weren’t talking about their fucking relationship_

 

_We were talking about this article that was rude as fuck about them being gay_

 

_And how they’d all have so much to say if they found out that like half of team Russia are some flavour of queer_

 

**That makes more sense. I guess people do get pretty wound up about it, especially now Viktor has retired. At least they didn’t figure out what you were really talking about, that would probably have been worse.**

 

_At this point idgaf Beka I just wish they would stop making shit up_

 

The little dots bounced for a long while again, and Potya jumped up onto Yuri’s shins to make herself comfortable in the most inconvenient way possible while he waited. He wished he could do to the reporters what they were always doing to him and his friends. See how _they_ liked having shit made up about themselves for a change. Or, better yet…

 

_Beka_

 

_Beka I had the best idea holy shit_

 

_Omg Beka I’m a genius_

 

_Let’s lie to them_

 

_String them along for a few months and then tell them it was all a big fat lie and they should put more effort into reporting_

 

_Duck me this is the best think_

 

Even auto-correct couldn’t save him now, his thumbs flew across the touchscreen of his phone almost as fast as he could think.

 

**Okay, what are you going to tell them?**

 

Everything ground to a momentary halt. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

 

_Uh_

 

**Well are you going to play on their desperation to marry you off, or something else? It would be funny to throw it in their faces though.**

 

Yuri frowned at the screen. He did have a few girls he was still vaguely in touch with from school, maybe one of them would go along with it? But then… most of them had moved away, and it wouldn’t hold up very long under scrutiny unless they were willing to put in a lot of effort learning his schedule, his current favourite things, basically everything that had changed since graduation. They probably wouldn’t want to do that for a joke for someone they weren’t really all that close to. Really, the only people who he was that close to these days were Mila and…

 

_Bekaaaaa_

 

_Be my fake boyfriend Beka_

 

_It’ll piss them off even more that I’m not just debunking their me+Mila theory but that I’m doing a dude_

 

_It’ll be hilarious_

 

_Plsssssss_

 

 _I mean_ Yuri had a momentary realisation of the magnitude of what he was asking his friend to do _only if you don’t mind getting outed_

 

_Ik not everyone knows_

 

_Sorry shouldn’t have asked_

 

Yuri chewed on his fingernail for a while, watching Otabek’s dots and resisting the urge to send twenty more texts.

 

**Yuri will you shut up for one second and let me reply?? I don’t mind. Pretty much everyone whose opinion I care about here knows anyway, and it’s been around the smaller media publications a bit already. Remember when I got smashed at my 21st and ended up making out with that hot hockey player half the night? Kinda let the cat out then, remember? If I’m going to fake a relationship with someone, especially a guy, it should at least be a good friend. I’ll be your stupid fake boyfriend you fucking dork. How are we going to do this?**

 

Yuri leaned back and petted Potya idly, his relief that he hadn’t pissed off Otabek with his half-thought request hanging in the air around him like a tangible thing. How _were_ they going to swing it? Otabek was all the way in Kazakhstan, and they weren’t going to see each other for months. Neither of them was in a position to just drop their training schedule for a visit, especially not just for a silly prank. He mulled it over until his phone trilled again.

 

**I could email the magazine, explain that actually you’re dating me, and offer them an exclusive interview? It would probably sound more authentic coming from me anyway.**

 

 _Beka you’re a fucking genius_ Yuri replied, _it’ll be way more of a fuck you when their ‘exclusive’ turns out to be a pile of shit_ he cackled delightedly, startling Potya from his legs. Yuri knew she still loved him, despite the wicked look she gave him as she stalked away, and he had no time to offer apologies right now - he had a fake interview to plan with Otabek.

 

~

 

‘RUSSIAN FAIRY’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP WITH KAZAKH DARK HORSE - **EXCLUSIVE**’

 

The magazine had outdone themselves with the most obnoxious typeface possible, plastered across what was actually a pretty attractive photograph of Otabek inelegantly pasted alongside one of Yuri that had been taken at a photoshoot a couple of years ago. Yuri rolled his eyes and hoped they weren’t planning on making the few years gap in their ages a big deal. Otabek had ‘kindly’ had a copy of the magazine sent to him, so he made a cup of tea and settled in to read what he expected would be a thoroughly entertaining bit of fiction.

 

‘ _We are in an airy loft conversion that serves as both a workout room and dance studio for local figure skaters training at the nearby Medeu rink. Otabek Altin is freshly showered after his workout and is looking positively gorgeous, so it’s easy to see why he is -or was- one of the sport’s most popular bachelors. He’s kindly made some time to exclusively speak to us, and we settle into a small seating area at the back of the room where we won’t disturb his rinkmates._

 

 **Interviewer:** Hi Otabek, thanks for getting in touch with us!

 

 **Otabek:** It’s no problem, when Yura sent me a photo of the magazine cover I realised we really needed to do something about it.

 

_Otabek drinks from a reusable water bottle then rolls it between his hands, he looks almost nervous even though he invited us here._

 

 **I:** So, since you bring it up, the article in question was the one regarding Yuri Plisetsky and Mila Babicheva, right?

 

 **O:** Yeah, that one. He was pretty upset. Yura and Mila are close, but she’s… _he hesitates, looking around the room as if others might be listening in, but everyone is completely absorbed in their own tasks_ not really his type, you know?

 

 **I:** And you are?

 

 **O:** _Otabek bristles a little bit, though the interviewer didn’t mean to be rude, but calms quickly._ Actually, yeah. He and I have been dating for a little while now.

 

 **I:** How on Earth did you manage to keep that little tidbit a secret!? There’s been speculation in media circles, of course, but you just don’t really seem the type, no offence.

 

 **O:** I’m not really fussy, to be honest, I just like who I like. _Otabek shrugs, though his cheeks darken a little in an extremely attractive way_. And we didn’t even really try, it’s easier to hide a long distance relationship, you know?

 

 **I:** That does make sense. Tell me, how did the two of you meet?

 

 **O:** That’s kind of a long story. We crossed paths at a training camp when we were kids but didn’t really meet until Barcelona when Yura moved to the Senior division. I moved around quite a bit for training until I came back to Almaty so we never got a chance to meet sooner than that.

 

 **I:** Barcelona is an incredibly romantic city! Were there instant sparks?

 

 **O:** _Otabek frowns, he looks a little confused._ No. He was a bratty kid - he’s _still_ a brat, come to think of it. But I liked and admired him as a skater, and wanted to befriend him. Everything else came much later.

 

 **I:** Well you can’t just leave it there!

 

 **O:** I guess I’m just not really sure what more to say. We’ve been friends for a while, and then seeing each other at competitions and hanging out together again we decided chatting more would be better. Then… _he’s hesitant and looking a bit unsure again, we get the impression he’s not usually much of a talker._ I don’t really remember which of us was the first to really talk about our feelings, but it was probably Yura.

 

 **I:** Yura is such a cute nickname, does he have one for you?

 

 **O:** I guess. He just calls me Beka, but most of my close friends do. The nicknames predate our romantic relationship.

 

 **I:** Have you been able to spend much time together since you started dating?

 

 **O:** Unfortunately not. We just can’t take the time out of our training schedules very often, but we do what we can, and we Skype and text a lot. It isn’t perfect, but we’ll see what the future holds.

 

 **I:** I guess we will! Thank you for meeting with us Mr. Altin, and we look forward to talking to you again in the future!’

 

The article ended with a nice double-spread of photographs that were clearly taken just for this interview. Yuri winced, since Otabek’s face showed his discomfort, but carefully tore the pages out and stuck them to his wall anyway. It was the least he could do after Otabek went through all that just for him.

 

_Beka I just finished reading the interview_

 

_You were amazing_

 

_They have no idea_

 

**Glad you liked it, there were actually a few other questions that they didn’t print. I’m glad though, they were kind of invasive.**

 

_Shit Im sorry_

 

_Can I do anything?_

 

**Nah, it was a while ago anyway. It was more annoying than anything else. I had to really shut them down when they started throwing the L word around, and asking whether we were intimate. I got the feeling they never intended to print those things anyway and were just asking to see if I’d answer, which I didn’t of course. But when I told them they could drop that shit or end the interview they fell into line pretty quickly.**

 

_Fucking fucks they just dont know when to draw a fucking line do they_

 

**Not really, no. They didn’t even ask anyone in the studio about us, they *really* don’t care about doing their homework, they just want to sensationalise everything.**

 

_Yuppppppp_

 

_We should do a joint interview at the GPF_

 

_Make a big deal out of it as if we’re announcing something really exciting_

 

_Then throw out the big fuck you it was all a fucking lie_

 

_And laugh our asses off_

 

**Well, you do like to make a stir at the GPF. You know they’re still talking about Welcome To The Madness? I think between your fans and mine that one’s never going to die.**

 

_Good_

 

_It was epic_

 

_Maybe this can top it_

 

**We’ll see**

 

Yuri was about to reply when a frantic banging on his front door made him jump out of his seat, startled.

“Alright alright! I’m coming! Stop trying to knock the fucking door down!” He crossed the room quickly and pulled open the door. He had to leap backwards to stop himself from being crushed as Mila, Katsuki, and Viktor all fell through it. “Fucking what?”

“You. Know. What!” Mila was the first to extract herself from the heap of limbs, though it didn’t really look like Viktor was trying all that hard, given that he was lying flat on top of his husband.

Mila brandished the magazine at him, shaking it in his face so vigorously that it actually hit his nose a couple of times.

“Oh it’s just that,” he turned away and waved flippantly.

“Just?! _JUST?!”_ Viktor managed to scramble to his feet and grabbed Yuri by the shoulders. He whirled him around and Yuri got a face full of Viktor, who looked torn between being livid and delighted. It was an odd look.

“Were you ever going to tell us about you and Otabek?!” Viktor was almost yelling. Behind him Katsuki dusted himself off and calmly closed the door. With a greeting wave he wandered into the kitchen and Yuri heard him fill the kettle. He was just here to reign in Viktor then, it seemed.

“There’s nothing to tell?”

“That’s not what the article says!” Mila cut in, shoving Viktor aside.

“It’s a joke, Baba.”

Mila and Viktor stared at him slack-jawed, the concept slowly filtering into their brains. Yuri waited, patiently, knowing that if he walked away he’d only be delaying the inevitable.

“A…”

“...joke.”

They looked at each other as if confirming that they heard him correctly.

“Yeah. I got sick of them always making shit up about all of us, so we thought it would be funny to tell them a crazy lie. They’re not gonna fact check it or follow up on it, let’s face it. We’ll string them along for a few months and then tell them that we were fucking with them.”

While Yuri waited for them to process _that_ part, Katsuki came in with a tea tray and set it down on the little dining table. That was his thing, apparently. Whenever Viktor came over to yell at him Katsuki always went and made tea, and by the time he was done Viktor was usually out of steam and Katsuki could finally calm him down and get him to go the fuck home.

“I need to buy you a new teapot, Yura,” Katsuki smiled as he handed over a steaming teacup, “this one has a crack.”

“Beka dropped it, it’ll be fine.”

“Not if it shatters and spills boiling tea all over your hands, it won’t.”

“I guess,” Yuri took a tiny sip of tea, “but it’ll do for now.”

Viktor and Mila turned to them, apparently shocked into silence that they could hold such a mundane conversation during what the two of them thought was a major crisis.

“Yuuuurriiii,” Viktor whined, “how can you talk about teapots at a time like this?!”

Katsuki tilted his head and gave Viktor that annoying little smirk that Yuri only liked to see directed at other people.

“A time like what, love?” His tone was saccharine sweet, but it had an edge Yuri recognised, “I told you I didn’t think this was a big deal _or_ any of our business, and you dragged me along anyway.”

That pretty much took the wind out of Viktor and Mila’s sails, which was probably Katsuki’s plan all along. He, thankfully, was the more sensible one and tended to work on the general principle that if Yuri wanted them involved he would tell them, and if he didn’t he wouldn’t. Where Viktor’s insistence that everything was his business and pushing himself in whether he was wanted or not had ended up making Yuri less inclined to tell him anything, Katsuki’s trust that Yuri would reach out if he needed or wanted to had done a lot to close that distance between them. Even though he was legally an adult now Viktor and some of his other rinkmates still treated Yuri like a child. Katsuki’s refusal to follow along with that was a bit of a shock to the other Russians, but Yuri appreciated it endlessly.

“I guess we did overreact a little bit,” Mila confessed quietly.

“A little?” Yuri quirked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes in return.

“Well what were we supposed to think! You could have warned us,” she admonished.

“Where would have been the fun in that?” He grinned but added, “and in any case, I just didn’t think to. It’s a stupid joke to make fun of the press. If it were real you know I’d have told you.”

“Urgh, _fine_.”

Viktor opened his mouth to object, but Katsuki’s hand on his arm made him snap it shut with a click of teeth instead. Crisis over, they accepted teacups from Katsuki and settled down to chat. Yuri eyed his phone, but wisely resisted the urge to start texting Beka again while the others were still hanging around.

“Just… don’t get hurt, Yura,” Mila murmured into his ear as he hugged her goodbye some time later. He only dignified that with a roll of his eyes before shutting the door in her face.

 

~

 

 **Have you seen how many publications are running stories about us based on that interview?** Beka texted him out of the blue a week or so later. They’d both been busy with training and hadn’t had much of a chance to talk since the article had come out.

 

Yuri did a very quick Google search and was surprised at just how many websites had something up about the whole thing. _He_ certainly hadn’t spoken to anyone, and as usual they were taking little things and running with them, extrapolating ideas and presenting them as ‘facts’ whether or not they were even remotely true.

 

_I hadnt but Google says theres a lot_

 

_They have a lot to say about us dont they_

 

_Have you done any more interviews or anything?_

 

**Nope. Anything they’re printing is just them doing what they do. We should probably step up our game though, look:**

 

Otabek sent him a link to an article that hadn’t come up yet in his search. The headline suggested the relationship was some kind of publicity stunt, and cited a lack of public displays of affection - whether in person or on social media - as a reason that they were _clearly_ faking. Well, that was easily taken care of.

 

_I mean theyre not wrong_

 

_But yeah_

 

He looked out of the window, pleased to see it was raining for once. It was the work of but a moment to lean against it and take a morose looking selfie, which he uploaded to Instagram. After tagging Otabek he added the hashtags #missingyou and #mysunshine, which he felt was suitably sappy, and posted it.

His phone pinged with a text from Otabek telling him to check his Insta a few minutes later since he had notifications turned off; the Angels were always tagging him in stuff so it was pointless trying to keep up. Scrolling through all the likes etc (the Angels seemed to be having a small war over whether their ‘ship name’ was Otayuri or Yurabek) he managed to find Beka’s reply. He’d taken his own photo by the window too, even though it was already dark there, and Yuri had to admit, quietly, only to himself, that Beka looked really good. He was obviously dressed for bed in a pair of loose-fitting pyjama pants and an old t-shirt that looked comfortable and soft. He’d even managed to muster up a small smile, which made Yuri chuckle. Good thing Otabek’s account was private, or the Angels and Otababes would have gone nuts.

 

**@yuri_plisetsky #missingyoutoo #mysunrisesinthewest**

 

Yuri’s felt his face go red all the way to the tips of his ears. He knew it was fake, but it was such a cheesy line he was getting second-hand embarrassment anyway.

 

 _B E K A_ he sent the text, unable to think of anything else to say.

 

Otabek replied with the smirking emoji, so he knew the fuck what he was doing.

 

**Oh and I made my Insta public for a while, just so you’re not doing all the work.**

 

_Ouch good luck lol_

 

**I have already had 300 new followers.**

 

_The Angels are going nuts too_

 

**Save us…**

 

_You made your bed you gotta lie in it_

 

**You’re a terrible boyfriend, I want a divorce.**

 

_Do i get half your medals in the divorce?_

 

**Only if I get half of yours.**

 

_No deal_

 

_Looks like you’re stuck with me_

 

Yuri sent a string of the stupid kissy face emojis that Viktor always put on his Insta posts about Katsuki, and Beka replied with a voice clip of him laughing his ass off, so that was a success.

They continued to trade Instagram posts, driving the fans wild and neatly convincing the publication that had called the legitimacy of their relationship into question that they were for real. Yuri found himself spending a large amount of his days looking for the next perfect post to dedicate to ‘his boyfriend’. He still sent the usual amount of cat pictures, that was never going to change, but now he also chose scenes he thought were vaguely romantic, or longing selfies. They even worked out a few joint posts, Otabek had the idea of each of them setting up a ‘romantic meal for two’ scene, complete with candle and co-ordinated food. Yuri had to break out the timer and his little phone tripod to get the perfect shot, but the pair of pictures quickly became their most favourited posts. Apparently the fans were absolutely _living_ for this relationship, and Yuri felt a little bad that they would probably be upset when they inevitably discovered it was all a big fat lie. Still, they were the ones who kept on buying the stupid lying magazines anyway, and that only encouraged them to continue making shit up, so really they had only themselves to blame. That was what he told himself whenever he started feeling bad about it, anyway.

Besides. Yuri was having way too much fun to stop yet. And he had to admit that getting the occasional ‘slightly risque but still Instagram-safe’ picture from Otabek was very enjoyable. He wasn’t fucking dead, he knew Beka was an attractive man. So what if it was his best friend making his heart skip a beat? Yuri’d had to flee to the bathroom to hide an awkward semi after seeing one of Katsuki’s photos once (okay, maybe more than once…), he wasn’t ashamed to admit he could appreciate someone’s good looks. Especially when they were going out of their way to look good. And it was only natural to be particularly affected when it was directed _at him_.

. . .fuck.

“So, this fake boyfriends thing was a terrible fucking idea,” Yuri announced when Mila let him into her apartment. She watched him make himself at home on her couch, patiently waiting for him to continue. That was one of the things he loved about Mila. She could be just as annoying and demanding and crazy as Viktor sometimes, but when he actually needed to talk to her she was the most patient and understanding person on the planet. He didn’t need her to ask him questions right now, he had to get to it in his own time. Normally he’d have talked to Beka about something like this, but… yeah, no.

“Tea?”

“Please.” Yuri definitely needed something to help his throat work through the words that had been bouncing around his mind for the last couple of days. He hadn’t even answered Beka’s last few texts, though he’d kept up the Instagram charade so Otabek probably just thought he was too busy for chit chat.

Mila had a gigantic teapot since her place was often a gathering for their rinkmates, so they sat in silence for a few cups until Yuri finally felt ready to talk.

“I think I like Beka,” Yuri confessed quietly and directly at his teacup.

“I was worried that might happen,” Mila looked at him with sad eyes, not even needing him to explain what he meant by _like_. “You feel everything with your whole heart, Yuri, and… well I thought your relationship was sorta headed that way anyway?”

“Thanks for the heads up, Baba,” he groused.

“Because you _so_ would have listened to me.”

Yuri nodded, conceding her point. If anything that would have only made him more determined to do this and prove her wrong.

“Would it be so bad?”

“What?”

“Not getting to shove it all in their faces at the end of it?”

He considered this, tilting his head this way and that as he thought and helping himself to more tea.

“Maybe. But then, if Beka isn’t, if he doesn’t… it would suck to lose him as a friend. I don’t think he’s that kind of guy though, but it might make things awkward.”

“I could test the waters for you? We haven’t really talked about this little stunt of yours, but it comes up occasionally. I could ask?”

Yuri shrugged, feeling defeated. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He didn’t have _time_ to have a crush he could actually act on. Hell even this fake relationship had been more work than he really wanted to spend, and it had only been bearable because a lot of it was just making his tags more sappy than usual, he hadn’t really had to do _that_ much more than he would have anyway. A real relationship would require work and communication and effort, all things he just wasn’t sure he was capable of. He said as much to Mila, and got a snort in return.

“Yeah, you’re right that you’d have to put in some effort, but Yura you’re already basically _doing_ all those things with Beka. You text basically every day, you’re always on fucking Snapchat or Instagram at each other, and you’ve taken to this romance bullshit ridiculously easily. It was only cause I knew better that I didn’t think you were already _in_ a relationship, that’s why I was so fucking surprised when that article came out. And that’s why nobody else questioned it when you ‘went public’. You’ve basically _been_ boyfriends for like a year at this point.”

Yuri couldn’t really argue with her there, so he just sat in sullen silence.

“I just wanted them to stop making shit up about you and me!” He whined eventually, knowing he sounded ridiculous.

“Well, you’re always going on about how grown up you are now, so here’s your chance to prove it and talk to your _actual boyfriend_ about your feelings. You saw what he said in the interview, if he’s caught the feels too he’s probably not going to be the one to bring it up. Grow a pair, Yurotchka, you can do it!”

Yuri grumbled wordlessly and finished his tea.

“Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, then left before she could give him any more ‘advice’. She was probably right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it without thinking.

“Hey Yura,” Otabek’s voice floated into his ear, and he nearly dropped the phone with a yelp of surprise. Heart hammering, he managed to regain his grip and put the phone back to his ear, fumbling his keys instead.

“Hey Beka, what’s up? You don’t usually call…” Yuri winced at the shake in his voice.

“Am I interrupting something? I hadn’t heard from you in a few days, I wanted to check you were okay.”

“No, no,” Yuri finally managed to get the bastard keys into the shitting keyhole and fell into his apartment. “Just busy. Been busy. Kept meaning to text you back but forgot. Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “are you sure you’re okay? You sound weird.”

Yuri slid down the door and leaned back against it, willing his heart to calm the fuck down.

“I’m fine,” he answered weakly. Potya stalked into the room, took one look at him, and went straight back out again, clearly already Completely Done With His Shit. Fair, to be honest, he thought.

“Yuri…” Otabek’s tone said he didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t press, like Mila he generally trusted Yuri to talk about important things when he was ready, but he always made it clear anyway when he thought Yuri was holding back on something. Yuri sighed heavily, not knowing where to go from here.

“I’m working through some things, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you another time.” He absolutely needed more time to think out how to approach this subject. “How are you?”

There were a few more moments of silence, and Yuri silently instructed his brain to stop making up disaster scenarios that mostly involved Mila having somehow told Otabek about their conversation in the time between him getting up from her couch and leaving her apartment and Beka calling him now to tell him they couldn’t be friends anymore. That was dumb, and definitely not what was happening, so shut the fuck up, idiot brain.

“Working through some things too, I guess. And worrying about you. What, you can’t even send an emoji so I know you’re alive anymore?”

“Fuck, Beka, I’m sorry okay? I’ll make sure to answer every text you ever send me from now on, I’ll update you whenever I take a shit if you like,” Yuri snapped, far too on edge to think clearly.

Otabek hung up.

Yuri threw his phone across the room with a yell and slammed his head back against the door in frustration. His phone pinged a few times from where it lay in the middle of the floor, then fell silent. After taking a few minutes to cool down, Yuri hauled himself across the room to deal with the fallout.

 

**Yuri, message me when you’re done working through your crap.**

 

**If I can help I will.**

 

**But I’m not your punching bag.**

 

**Sorry for caring about your well-being I guess.**

 

**Sorry, that was passive-aggressive. I’m just pissed off right now. I’ll talk to you soon.**

 

Yuri sighed, wondering how the hell he was going to salvage this. Well, it might solve his problems if Beka was so mad at him he didn’t want to talk to him anymore? But the thought of that made him nauseous.

He wanted to text Otabek and apologise right away, but it sounded like Beka needed some space right now, so he didn’t. He didn’t text him the next day, or the day after that either. Nor did either of them tag each other in Instagram posts, though Yuri continued to make his usual inane posts, since the last time he took a few days off some of his well-meaning but over-zealous fans had started wondering if he was dead in a ditch somewhere and were halfway to sending a search party to trawl the whole of St. Petersburg for his body before he came back.

The radio silence dragged out for a week, then two. Mila looked at him sympathetically when he explained they were having a little fight and he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press. Yuri knew that she would probably have some good advice for him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell another person that Beka was rightly pissed off at him for behaving like an asshole. This was one thing he needed to work through on his own. It hurt, though, checking Otabek’s Instagram to see that his very last post was a picture of a cute stuffed tiger that he had bought to give to Yuri next time they saw each other with the caption #myheart. He had only really started posting regularly because Yuri insisted that he at least take pictures of cats he saw on the street, and then to help him keep up their pretence. This lack of updates made Yuri feel like he had really, _really_ messed up.

After allowing himself another few days to mope, Yuri finally decided he needed to do something. _Anything_. This couldn’t go on. And he couldn’t let this friendship end just because neither of them was willing to be the first to reach out. Beka had told him to message him when he’d worked through his crap, and even though that wasn’t exactly what he’d done, he wasn’t going to be able to while they still weren’t talking. Grabbing a teddy bear that Beka had given him at Worlds - one of the ones that had been thrown onto the ice for him - and sitting it on his desk beside one of his own cat toys, he spent way longer than he would ever admit taking the perfect picture.

 

_@otabek-altin #imsorry #forgiveme #zolotse #kunim_

 

He posted the picture without giving himself time to overthink it or lose his nerve, then shoved his phone in the drawer of his coffee table and went to his bedroom to read and try not to think about it anymore. By the time it was dark and his rumbling stomach reminded him he should do more than read this evening, he’d completely forgotten about the post - and where he’d left his phone. Feeling too drained to cook, Yuri reheated some leftovers and sat on the couch to eat, flicking idly through Netflix while he fed tidbits to a suddenly interested Potya. Finally, an irritating buzzing sound that was too irregular to be tinnitus reminded him that he’d put his phone in the coffee table, and he apprehensively retrieved it to find out who was calling him.

He had 74 notifications.

23 were texts from Otabek, who had also tried to call him 11 times. The other shit was irrelevant, in Yuri’s opinion.

 

**Yuri what the fuck**

 

**Answer your fucking phone you dork**

 

**Yuri**

 

**You’re such a fucking asshole**

 

**My phone is fucking blowing up dickhead, answer your phone**

 

**YURI**

 

A string of nonsensical emojis that Yuri wasn’t even going to try and figure out.

 

**Y**

 

**U**

 

**R**

 

**I**

 

**Hey shithead get back to me already**

 

**Oh my god Yura your fans**

 

**YURI!!!!**

 

**This is ridiculous. How can you make a post like that and then FUCKING ABANDON YOUR PHONE.**

 

**What the hell is wrong with you.**

 

**ANSWER YOUR PHONE ASSHOLE**

 

**If I don’t hear back from you today I’m getting on a plane tomorrow.**

 

**Is that what you want? You want me to abandon my training schedule to make sure you’re not fucking dead?**

 

**Seriously Yuri. I’m really worried. Please PLEASE PLEASE don’t do anything stupid just because we had a fight.**

 

**I’m sorry. I was only mad for a minute, I jsut wnatid to give you some sapce**

 

**Yuri pelase pck up**

 

**I’m claling Mila**

 

After the last text Otabek had tried again to call him, which was what Yuri had heard, and just as he was about to dial Otabek back his front door burst open and Mila rushed in. Yuri regretted giving her an emergency key, now.

“Oh my god Yuri, what the fuck. Otabek’s losing his mind, why are you ignoring him? He’s just called me convinced you’re in here killing yourself! CALL YOUR BOYFRIEND, ASSHOLE!” She screamed at him, satisfied that seeing him looking sheepishly at her from the couch he was, in fact, not killing himself or in any danger whatsoever. Without waiting for a response, she stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her. Yuri rolled his eyes and hit call.

“Shit, Yuri, finally!” Otabek answered on the first ring.

“I think Mila bust a hole in my wall, so thanks for that,” he laughed dryly, suddenly not sure what to say.

“Is that all you have to say?” Beka sounded wrung out, and Yuri could imagine him pacing around with that pinched look on his face that he got when Yuri was really trying his patience.

“I’m sorry, Beka. I… Was embarrassed, so I put my phone away and went to read a book for way longer than I meant to.”

“Oh is that all. Fine, fine, okay, idiot, I’ll just be over here three thousand miles away having a fucking heart attack. No big deal.”

“I’m _really_ sorry Beka,” Yuri was quiet, barely able to bring himself to talk above a whisper, “I didn’t think you would take it that way. I meant I was sorry for being a prick on the phone the other day. Week. Not that I was going to do something drastic.”

“Well. Good. Because Yura. I swear.” Yuri heard what sounded like Otabek flopping down on something soft, and his voice came through muffled when he spoke again. “I have never been so fucking angry and scared in my entire life. I was Googling flights on my fucking phone when you called. I was literally about to get on a fucking plane. Promise me you won’t ever do something like that, my heart can’t take it.”

“Alright old man,” Yuri couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out weak and flat, “I’ll save your poor heart, promise.”

“...‘kay.”

They sat there in silence for a while, listening to each other breathe.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Yura,” Otabek murmured finally, and Yuri’s heart all-but stopped.

“Do what?” He couldn’t keep the shake from his voice. He was trying not to assume the worst, but it was really _fucking_ hard.

“This whole fake boyfriends for the media thing,” Yuri felt dizzy with relief, “I just can’t see posts like that anymore.”

“I understand. I’ll make an Instagram post tomorrow explaining that we were joking to piss off the media, but that it’s run its course and we’re gonna go back to normal now.”

“...thanks.” Beka’s voice sounded hollow, and Yuri wondered how long it had been annoying him.

“I’m really, really lucky to have a friend like you, Beka, not many people would be willing to do something like that for someone. I really appreciate it.” He meant every word, even if he could barely hear himself over the sound of his own heart shattering.

“I don’t mind, you know I’m always willing to help if I can. I just…” Otabek sighed heavily, his voice still muffled.

“You don’t have to explain, really.”

Otabek made a weird grunting noise and Yuri could hear fabric moving around. He was probably lying on his bed, exhausted now the adrenaline had worn off.

“It’s late there, I’d better let you sleep.”

“G’night Yuryim,” Otabek yawned loudly.

“Sleep well.”

 

Yuri’s post the following day went… about as well as he could have expected, really. Of course a whole slew of their fans, particularly the ones that had really gone hard on the whole relationship thing, were insisting that the lie was the lie and that they just wanted their relationship to go back to being secret. And Yuri got six separate calls from news outlets begging for an interview, to which he answered all with a resounding ‘fuck all the way off and stay there’. Otabek made a short post as well, confirming that what Yuri said was true and apologising to their fans for the deception. Fortunately, most people were sympathetic and some were even a little outraged on their behalf that they had to resort to such an elaborate scam to try and get the media to stop inventing lies about them. Mila sent him a bunch of crying emojis, which he resolutely ignored. He didn’t need her pity, he was just glad he hadn’t lost his friend.

Slipping back into the habits from before was more difficult. Yuri kept catching himself taking photos of stupid romantic shit like he had been, and getting halfway through the tags before deleting it all in disgust at himself. Otabek had made his position clear and all Yuri had to do was respect it. At least he was getting the street cat photos again, so Beka was apparently not mad at him anymore. Both of them were deliberately ignoring any questions or arguments going on; it seemed like the best course of action for one, and for two Yakov had been so angry about it he had tried to ban Yuri from social media altogether.

 

 **You want this?** Beka texted him a picture of a long sleeved t-shirt that was solid black except for the sleeves, which were tiger striped. Yuri sent back a bunch of the 100 emoji and the thumbs up emoji, and a few heart-eyes just to be on the safe side.

 

_That is seriously awesome!_

 

_Where did you find it_

 

_Ill take 12_

 

_Jk just one is fine_

 

**Actually, one of my friends saw it and thought you might like it.**

 

_They know it was all a joke right_

 

**We’re still friends Yura…**

 

_True_

 

_Tell them thanks!_

 

_Hey that reminds me_

 

_What does Yuryim mean?_

 

**What? Where did you hear that?**

 

_You said it the other night I just forgot till now_

 

**I don’t think so, you must have misheard.**

 

_Maybe_

 

_I think you were halfway in your pillow anyway_

 

_But im pretty sure_

 

 **It’s gibberish anyway, I was probably just slurring because I was so tired. You’re hard fucking work, you know that?** He added a :P emoji so Yuri knew he was kidding, even if it was kinda true.

 

_And yet you still wanna be friends who whos the bigger fool here? ;)_

 

**Touché. GP assignments are out next week, where do you think you’ll be going?**

 

_Hopefully anywhere JJ Loseroy isnt_

 

**He’s really not that bad, Yura, you’d probably get along if you gave him half a chance.**

 

_I sent him a congratulations when he got married!_

 

**…**

 

**You sent Bella an apology card and the number for a divorce lawyer in Toronto.**

 

_Same thing!_

 

**It really isn’t…**

 

_Its not my fault she deserves better!_

 

**YURA...**

 

_Fiiiiiiiine._

 

_Then I guess I dont care where i go_

 

_Would be cool if we got assigned in the same place for at least one of them but its w/e i guess_

 

_Were both gonna end up at the final so it doesnt really matter_

 

**That’s true. Well, I definitely am, I’m not sure about you. Only good skaters get to the final ;)**

 

_Youre a dick_

 

**And yet you still wanna be friends with me, so who’s the bigger fool here? ;)**

 

_...oh fuck you._

 

**You should be so lucky.**

 

Yuri groaned and hung his head. Vaguely flirtatious jokes were normal, but that was before their stupid stunt. And he’d seen Beka’s texts to other people, he knew that was just part of his sense of humour. And that mostly it was born of insecurity rather than ego. But now that he was starting to ‘catch feels’, as Mila had put it, and Beka had made it clear he hadn’t, the knowledge that he was being teased with something he could never have left a sour taste in his mouth.

 

 **Was that too much?** Clearly he’d taken too long to reply. **I’m sorry, I know things have changed, it’s hard to find the old boundaries anymore…**

 

_No no youre fine_

 

_Just Potya being a shit as usual_

 

_And you know full well youd be the lucky one ;)_

 

What the fuck was he doing? This was the perfect opportunity to rein it in, and he was… not doing that? He knew he should, but… somehow he just wanted to take what he could get right now. Maybe that made him a bad person, but whatever, sue him. He’d get over it sooner or later, he was still young. First crushes (he refused to call it anything else) were fleeting and he was sure that it was only because Otabek was the first person he’d really been close to outside of his rinkmates.

 

**Ha, you ass.**

 

~

 

Yuri and Mila watched the GP assignment announcement together, opting for a quieter event than the one taking place downstairs in Viktor and Katsuki’s shared apartment.

Yuri was assigned to the NHK Trophy and Skate America, so he wouldn’t be able to skate at his home rink. Otabek was… also assigned to NHK and America. Yuri was practically vibrating with anticipation and apprehension, this would be the first chance they had to see each other in person since last year’s GP and things were very different now. Best of all, JJ was assigned to Rostelecom and China, so if all went well they wouldn’t see him _at all_. Yuri knew that was unrealistic, even he had to admit JJ was an okay skater, _he guessed_ , but he could live in hope.

 

 **Are we going to room together again this year?** Otabek’s text took Yuri by surprise, he hadn’t expected him to be up for the announcement, nor did he think he’d want to spend _that_ much time together this time.

 

_Yeah sure_

 

_Ill get Yakov to book it when he does everyone elses_

 

**Sounds good**

 

Skate America was the first event, so Yuri had to train hard so he could come out of the gate running. He and Otabek hardly spoke apart from exchanging a few logistical arrangements, and Yuri was kind of glad about it. It was so much easier to push aside his entire social life just to eat, sleep, and breathe skating for a few more months. He knew Otabek was the same, that hard-headed determination was one of the things he liked most about his friend. So, with little to distract them from the task at hand, the two of them arrived at their first assignment feeling confident and ready to fight all comers for the gold - even each other.

 

~

 

“Yura!” Otabek called and waved from across the room as Yuri entered the hotel with the rest of the team. Beka was holding up two room keys, so he’d already checked them in. No need to stick around, then, and Yuri said a quick goodbye to Yakov and Lilia, promising to get an early night and meet them in the morning.

“You got in early after all then?” He asked, catching the keycard Otabek threw his way once he was close enough.

“Yeah, we had a tail wind all the way so we were about an hour ahead of schedule, somehow.”

“Heyyy! Otabek! Yuri” Leo de la Iglesia called out to them, struggling with his bags to push through the crowd. Yuri levelled a dark look at him and turned away. He tugged on Otabek’s arm and dragged him to the lifts as the crowd closed in around them.

“You can’t be an island forever, Yura,” Otabek chided, “Leo’s a nice guy. You could give him a chance.”

“Maybe later, right now I want to unpack and chill the fuck out before the Angels show up.” The truth was Yuri still didn’t really know how to deal with other people. He was loud and plain-talking, most people found him too brusque and aggressive to spend any length of time with him, so he saved them all the effort of trying to pretend to be nice. The fact that Otabek had stuck around this long without being forced to, like his rinkmates, was frankly astonishing. Yuri just… wasn’t good with people. It was better to be alone than constantly on edge that someone was going to be offended by him. He wasn’t about to change his personality for their benefit.

“You can go, though,” he offered, trying to be understanding of the fact that other people didn’t always feel the same way.

“Nah. I’ll see him later. Let’s get settled in.”

Yuri let out an inaudible sigh of relief as the lift doors opened with a quiet ping, releasing them into the corridor. Their room was close to the end of a long hall, but Yuri was grateful since that meant they would be less likely to be disturbed by people returning to their rooms late at night.

Otabek’s keycard opened the door with a click and as they stepped inside they immediately saw that something wasn’t as it should be.

Bathroom? Check.

Microwave? Check.

Alarm clock? Check.

Phone? Check.

TV with shitty hotel channels? Check.

Tea and coffee? Check.

Twin beds? … … …

“What the ever loving fuck?”

Yuri’s hot pink leopard print case thudded to the ground and he leapt to the phone, dialling the reception desk with furious jabs of his fingers. Otabek just stood in the doorway frowning, not quite caught up.

“Hello, Reception! My name’s Alex, how can I help!” The woman’s voice chirped brightly in his ear.

“Yeah, you can start by telling me why we have a double bed not two singles.” Yuri snapped in heavily-accented English.

“Oh! So sorry for the mix-up sir! What room are you in?”

Yuri gave his name and the room number and waited with what passed for patience with him as her fingers clacked on a keyboard. That is to say, he paced the length the phone cable would allow him to and tapped his fingernail on the handset pressed so hard against his ear he was definitely going to have an imprint when he hung up.

“Oh dear, it does look like a booking error! So sorry sir!” Alex trilled.

“It’s fine,” he growled, “just move us and it’ll be fine.”

“I really am so very sorry Mr Plisetsky, but unfortunately as you know the Skate America event is happening nearby, and we are just completely booked all the way to the top!” Her voice was really starting to grate on him, though she did sound fairly apologetic.

“So give us a twin room someone else booked and lump _them_ with the double.”

Her fingers clacked on the keyboard a little more and he heard the line go dead as she muted him to talk to a colleague.

“I _really_ can’t apologise enough, Mr Plisetsky, but I’m afraid we just don’t have any unoccupied twin rooms remaining that aren’t assigned to skaters.”

“We _are_ skaters,” his voice was so cold he was sure her headset would be icing up on the other end.

“I understand sir, but everyone is arriving so quickly we simply can’t make any alterations at this time. The best thing I can do for you is a room service credit and my personal gua-ran- _tee_ that I will keep an eye on the rooms list and the very second a twin room comes available I will book you guys into it. I’m on the night shift so I’ll be here until tomorrow morning, and I’ll also place a flag on the system so that when the day shift come on they know that this is a number one priority.” The line went dead for a moment longer and Yuri tapped his foot impatiently. “Mr Plisetsky, I really do understand and I am so very sorry,” her voice had lowered into something that sounded a great deal more sincere and less like a Customer Service Voice, “I promise I’ll do everything I can for you. In the meantime I keep a small camping bed in the back room for when I’m doing split shifts and I can have that brought up for you if that helps? I know it isn’t ideal, and it was completely our fault, but it’s the best I can do right now.”

Yuri made a rude noise through his teeth.

“No. It’s fine. A few more blankets will be fine. I know it’s not _your_ fault. Thanks for trying, let me know if a room comes up.” Look at Yuri, being a grown up and not yelling the poor girl’s ear off. She promised to send the blankets right up, and he even said goodbye like a civilised fucking human.

“Yeah, we’re stuck with this for now.”

Otabek, who had watched the one-sided exchange intently, nodded.

“I gathered,” he clapped his hands a few times, “well done for not losing your temper though. I’ll take the floor.”

“Shut the fuck up old man, I’ll take the floor. You know I can sleep anywhere.”

“I also know I’m going to have to listen to you whine about your back all day tomorrow, too, if you do.”

“You will not!”

“ _And_ if you don’t get gold I’ll have to deal with you whining all through NHK and the final that sleeping on the floor threw you off.”

Otabek was smirking, so Yuri threw a pillow at him. He caught it, so Yuri threw a couple more for good measure. He caught both of them too. Yuri flopped face down on the bed and groaned while flipping Beka the bird.

“You know, the bed _is_ designed for two. We could just share it, idiot.”

Yuri blinked stupidly at him. He… actually had a point. The bed _was_ plenty big enough for both of them. A knock at the door startled him but Otabek was closer - it was just a concierge with the extra blankets Yuri had requested and some gourmet tea and coffee sachets that Yuri secretly guessed were from Alex, since none of the skaters were allowed to drink alcohol before the event. She probably would have sent champagne and chocolate or something otherwise. Yuri decided he liked her after all.

“Urgh fine, but if you steal the blankets I’m going to throw you on the floor.”

“Same to you,” Otabek smiled. Yuri’s heart fluttered. This was a _terrible_ idea. This was the worst idea since the fake boyfriends thing. He was doomed.

“ _And_ I’m gonna beat you this time.” Otabek said very seriously, then turned away to begin unpacking his shit.

 _Doomed_.

 

Yuri was exhausted the next morning as he waited for his practice session. Otabek was a very considerate bedmate, he didn’t snore or hog the covers, and he fell asleep almost instantly after the lights were out. But Yuri just lay awake beside him, feeling the gentle heat of his body like a furnace that would burn him if he got too close. The exhaustion settled beneath his skin like a hard to scratch itch, but he stifled his yawns and stuck to his single-coffee limit. If anyone started asking questions about it they’d have to start explaining the room situation, and he wasn’t ready for Mila’s Judging Face™ today. Yuri sighed as he looked down at his phone, waiting patiently for the Juniors to come off the ice. He was probably going to have to get on speaking terms with the elephant in the room sooner than he’d like to.

The thought made a ripple of goosebumps break out across his skin. He didn’t _want_ to have this conversation with Beka. Everything was _fine_. Except. Except… it wasn’t, was it? Beka had made his position clear, and Yuri respected it. But if he continued to put it off the only thing that would happen is that he would find it increasingly difficult to hide, then Otabek would notice something was off, and they’d have to have the conversation anyway. And it would be so much worse if he had to do it under duress rather than willingly.

 

**Do you ever feel like you spend more time waiting for something than anything else?**

 

“You have no fucking idea,” Yuri muttered under his breath at the text message.

 

_I honestly don’t even know why they’re here the junior comp was ages ago_

 

**Who knows why the ISU does what the ISU does?**

 

 _Probably not even them_ , Yuri snorted and shook his head.

 

Finally they were allowed onto the ice for their turn, and Yuri tried to lose himself in his choreography. It was hard to concentrate, though, since his body knew the motions so well that he found himself drifting back to other thoughts. After his third flubbed jump Yakov barked at him to come over for a more thorough dressing down, and by lunch the exhaustion from that morning had settled deep into his bones.

“Is it because of the room situation?” Otabek asked him quietly as they ate, not even needing to ask him if he was okay. “I can go and share with Sasha, he won’t mind. He complains sometimes that he loses valuable coaching time now we don’t share a room anyway.”

“No, it’s nothing,” Yuri assured him quickly, “just having an off day. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, don’t worry,” he offered a tight-lipped smile and Otabek dropped the subject, moving on to speculating about the other skaters routines.

They had managed to catch Alex on her way off shift that morning, and though she had clearly been tired she took the time to walk them through everything she was doing to get them a twin room and the instructions she’d left for the day shift. She seemed genuinely sorry for the situation, and even a little irritated that she was the only one who seemed to care about the hotel’s major fuck up. With any luck they’d be able to do some creative moving around and Yuri and Otabek would have the room they were supposed to have by that evening. Yuri crossed his fingers, anyway.

Instead of joining Otabek and the others for a little sightseeing, Yuri opted to go and take a nap that afternoon in the hope of shaking his funk. He was up first in the morning, and he really needed to be on form. His dreams were murky and confusing, and when Otabek woke him for dinner later that evening he didn’t feel like he had rested at all. The benefit of that, though, was that by the time they turned in he was so shattered he fell asleep even before the light was out. The hotel had not been able to find them an alternative room.

“Morning,” Otabek rumbled sleepily when their simultaneous alarms woke them way too early.

In Yuri’s humble opinion it should be illegal for there to be a time this early. It should be doubly illegal for Otabek to exist this early, all bed-hair and sleepy eyes. _Asshole._ He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. That didn’t muffle the sound of Otabek getting up, though, and eventually he had to face up to the fact that he, too, needed to get up and ready.

“You know, if this was a tv show or one of Mila’s trashy novels, we’d have woken up snuggled together,” Otabek chuckled from the bathroom. Yuri heard the buzz of his electric shaver start up and was glad he had never developed the thick, coarse facial hair that Beka had. Not yet, anyway. Thankfully that prevented him from answering, and then they were too busy getting ready to chat much.

Alex waved them over to the counter as they strolled through the lobby and once again apologised that she hadn’t yet been able to reallocate them a room. Apparently the hotel had actually overbooked, assuming that some people wouldn’t turn up, and had ended up having to turn some guests away. It had been a massive debacle, and Alex suggested in a conspiratorial tone that someone further up the chain was going to be in a _lot_ of trouble. They couldn’t spare the time to stand around and gossip, so they thanked her for her continued efforts and began the short journey to the rink in uneasy silence.

At least, Yuri felt it was uneasy. As they trailed behind Yakov, Lilia, and Sasha he kept glancing across at Otabek and trying to gauge his mood. Things hadn’t seemed super awkward this morning, but they had a fairly flawless routine by now that they had simply fallen into automatically when they got up. Breakfast had been a subdued affair, each of them commandeered by their respective coaches for last-minute instructions, and Yuri was now finding it difficult to bring himself to speak.

His thought had been that they would be able to put the summer’s hijinks behind them, and that he’d be able to keep his budding crush under wraps, but a lump had settled in his throat that threatened to strangle him, and he just wasn’t sure how to act now.

“Are you okay, Yura?” Otabek’s quiet voice beside him made him jump and slip a little on the frozen ground. He flailed and Otabek caught his elbow with a strong hand, steadying him.

“What?” His heart thudded in his chest, though that was largely from the near-death experience.

“You’re never normally this quiet,” Otabek offered a small smile.

“Oh, that. Just focussed,” he shook Beka’s hand off and strode ahead, “on how badly I’m gonna beat you.” He grinned, hoping it looked more natural than it felt.

“Well, you can try.”

 

Yuri finished the day in first place, but Otabek was only a single point behind, and Yuri knew this was going to be his most challenging season to date.

“When the fuck did you get so good?” He groused from the bed while Otabek used the bathroom. It had been a whirlwind afternoon as both their coaches whisked them away for separate lectures, glaring at each other as if their skaters’ friendship was the cause of the minute score gap and not Otabek’s ridiculous skill and determination, and Yuri’s inner turmoil.

Yuri would normally have been annoyed at that, but right now he was just glad to have a little breathing room. He lay on the bed listlessly, brooding and staring up at the ceiling vacantly. He really, _really_ needed to do something, anything. He felt this weird combination of completely incapable of action, and so full of pent-up energy he was practically vibrating. His ears were ringing with a strange, high-pitched noise that he couldn’t attribute to rink noise, and he started to wonder if this was what anxiety felt like. He was about to pick up his phone to text Katsuki and ask, when Otabek sat down beside him.

“Yuri, what’s going on?” He asked in a quiet voice.

Yuri fell off the bed with a yelp.

After lying on the floor for a few frantic heartbeats, knowing Beka was patiently waiting for him to pick himself up, he dragged himself up until he was kneeling and rested his chin on the edge of the bed.

“What do you mean?” He laughed and it came out frantic, too high-pitched even to his own ears.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Otabek sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, “but shit like that is what I mean. You’re so on edge this week. I get that the room situation isn’t ideal, and I’m honestly happy to go share with Sasha, but it just feels like there’s something deeper going on. Is it your grandpa?”

This was the make or break moment, Yuri realised. He could do one of two things here. One; he could come clean to Otabek, explain about his stupid crush and the fact that he respected Otabek’s feelings and wasn’t intending on doing anything about it, but that he might need a little time to get over it. And two; he could take the out that was given, make up a story about grandpa that would be plausible enough to convince Beka, take a little sympathy (and the thought of sympathy hugs made his heart skip a beat; fuck this crush, seriously), and go on trying to hide it. Of course, there was always option three, where he just denied anything was wrong, said he was tired, and went straight to sleep.

Shit, he’d been staring at Otabek this whole time, mulling over his thoughts. He was lucky Beka was a patient man who wouldn’t press him if he chose not to talk. The ringing in his ears was getting louder, but his heartbeat was giving it a run for its money on the loudest thing in his head.

“Oh fuck, give me a minute,” he growled and fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind himself. Sitting down he put his head between his knees the way he’d seen Katsuki do when his nerves were getting the best of him, and to his surprise it helped quite a bit. He waited and waited, trying to get himself into a space where he felt he could talk, but every time he thought about going back out his hands started shaking and he felt nauseous. Yuri had no idea how long had passed when there came a timid knock at the door.

“Yura, I’m going to go and share with Sasha. I don’t want to upset you anymore. I’m sorry,” Otabek’s quiet voice spurred him to action, and he swung the door open, grabbing hold of Otabek’s sleeve before he was able to leave the room.

“I’m just.” Yuri’s mouth flapped like a fish out of water. He could see himself in the mirror on the wall, placed strategically in the darkest fucking place in the room so it would be absolutely no use whatsoever. _Hotels_. He looked like shit. “AnxiETY?!” Was all he could manage, and his voice rose to a pitch that could almost be called a shriek. He looked wildly at Beka, hoping he could understand.

Otabek turned and looked at him with those beautiful, soft, brown eyes. There was no judgement, not even any question. Otabek tugged his sleeve out of Yuri’s hand and then pulled him in, hugging him just enough for him to feel it but loose enough that he could pull away easily if he wanted to.

Yuri melted. Curling his arms around Otabek’s waist, he clung on tightly and Otabek matched his grip. Otabek breathed deeply and slowly, and Yuri soon found himself matching those breaths until the tremors in his hands stopped and his head felt less like a cotton wool factory had exploded inside it. When he could breathe normally again he, reluctantly, stepped away.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I. Don’t know.”

Otabek steered him back to the bed and sat him down, then perched on the tiny desk on the opposite wall. He was clearly trying to give Yuri some space, and Yuri was glad of it. If he’d had to have this conversation with Otabek at his side he’d probably combust.

“Why do you put up with my shit?” Yuri frowned, having a moment of self-doubt that was totally unlike him. Otabek frowned too, looking utterly confused.

“You’re my friend.”

“Yeah? I don’t think that means what you think it means,” he grumbled. “I mean, I put you through a lot of crap - this year _alone_ I’ve been a major pain in the ass - most normal people would get sick of it already.”

“I guess I’m not normal then,” Otabek laughed.

“Clearly.”

Silence fell over them once again, but only for a moment.

“Is it the scores? Because Yura, I can’t dial it down just because you’re having an existential crisis… That’s not fair.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Yuri shook his head and waved his hands at Otabek to emphasise his point. “Beka I am _so fucking proud_ that the scores are so close, for once I actually don’t care if someone beats me as long as it’s you. I’m not gonna just _let_ you, that would be no fun, but as long as we’re in the top two places on the podium I don’t really give a shit what order we’re in.”

An uninterpretable look crossed Otabek’s face before he covered it with his hands.

“Fuck, Yura,” he muttered quietly into his palms.

Yuri didn’t really know what else to say, so he just fidgeted a little, trying to find the most comfortable way to sit on the bed without moving back to the headboard.

“I wasn’t sure if I could tell you this,” Otabek began again without warning, snapping Yuri’s attention back to him. “I thought that it was just me and that I should just be grateful for what I have.” He leaned back and thumped his head on the wall once, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to make a little noise. His eyes were closed, and Yuri wasn’t sure if he was going to continue or… Was he talking about the competition? But that didn’t make sense, of _course_ Yuri would want strong competition, especially from his best friend.

“Yuri, do you know why I chose ‘enchantment’ as my theme this season?”

“Because you’re a fucking dork and you wanted an excuse to use all those froofy fabrics in your costumes,” Yuri laughed.

“Oh yeah, I adore being decked out in tulle, it’s not a giant pain in my ass _at all_ ,” Otabek chuckled back.

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m mostly amazed at the amount of make-up you let them put on you. Georgi’s gonna have a run for his money at this rate.”

“Oh fuck all the way off,” Otabek stretched out a foot and pushed Yuri’s knee, grinning.

“What? It’s a good look for you. Very… Pride Parade.”

“You’re _such_ an asshole,” Beka was laughing hard now, and Yuri felt proud that he’d managed to drag his friend out of whatever deep emotion he’d been wading in. It had started to feel kinda like a break-up.

“And yet you’re still my friend, so who’s the fool?”

That did it, and the pair of them cracked up. When they finally managed to calm down, Otabek fixed him with a serious look.

“You can’t get out of this that easy, Yura.”

Well damn. At least it no longer felt like Beka was about to tell him to lose his number.

“Why then?”

“Because…” Beka sighed heavily, the jovial mood dissipating in an instant. “Last summer when you had that crazy idea, it sounded like fun to go along with it. After I got all my friends and rinkmates off my back for not telling them about it when it happened, and explained that it was just to piss off the media, they all told me I was crazy. But I didn’t think it was a big deal. We’ve always been close friends, so who cares, right? But…”

“Then it started to annoy you. I get it. And I don’t know how else I can apologise for that mess.” Yuri interrupted him, feeling deflated. He already knew how Beka felt, he didn’t need it spelled out again.

“No! It never annoyed me. I always enjoyed seeing your Insta posts, but I started looking forward to them. They were a highlight of my day. And I found myself spending more time wanting to make my replies more romantic, and seeing things that you would like… I almost booked a flight to come visit and surprise you one day, way before that whole thinking-you-were-killing-yourself thing, because I wanted to see you and…” He leapt to his feet, startling Yuri, and began pacing in the small space by the bed. It was odd for Otabek to be so antsy, he was usually like an immovable force. Yuri blinked at him stupidly, wondering where the hell this was going and what the fuck relevance it had to Beka’s theme.

“I chose enchantment because of you, shithead.”

The words were quiet, and Yuri wasn’t sure if he’d heard them right. Maybe his brain had decided to insert some word or other to make it sound more like Beka was… what, exactly?

“Me? What did _I_ do?”

“Because you’re, I don’t know, some fucking faerie prince who thinks it’s fun to mess with mortals and steal their hearts!” Otabek’s face was deathly serious, but the clenched fists at his side and the light sheen of sweat on his brow under the too-bright hotel room lights suggested he was _nervous_ rather than angry.

“Steal…” Yuri frowned, confused for a second, and then couldn’t help the trill of laughter that bubbled up inside him. Once the first giggle had escaped he couldn’t stop the rest from following, and soon he was doubled over.

“It’s not fucking funny Yuri!” Otabek’s voice took on a panicked note, “I thought after you said you didn’t care if I beat you that maybe you, you, I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in despair and turned to walk away, probably to shut himself in the bathroom, but Yuri leapt forward and grabbed his arm, stifling his giggles as best he could.

“I’m not,” he chuckled, “I’m not laughing _at_ you, asshole. It’s just funny because of,” he took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself back under control. “When I talked to Mila about all this, she reminded me of what you said in that dumb fake interview. That you thought it was probably me who talked about my feelings first. So she said you’d probably never do it and I should grow a fucking pair. But I,” he dissolved into giggles again while Otabek just stared at him, seemingly lost for words.

“I was the one who couldn’t do it,” he gasped when he finally managed to mostly control himself, “I _couldn’t_ grow a pair. I was seconds from texting fucking Katsuki to ask him what anxiety felt like because all this,” he waved at the room around them, “made it so fucking hard to keep it hidden. I’ve been so fucking stressed that you telling me you couldn’t do the fake boyfriends thing meant that you don’t like me like that, and that telling you that I _do_ would mean I’d lose you as a friend, it never crossed my mind that I was wrong. And it wasn’t like I could just fucking _ask_ you what you meant! That would be as good as telling you how I feel! And then you go and do the exact opposite of what I expected you to do. That’s what was funny, is all. I’m not laughing at you, Beka, I swear.”

The corner of Otabek’s mouth twitched up in a half smile as he appeared to realise that the situation _was_ sort of funny in a painful and possibly ironic kind of way.

“I guess I understand why you would have thought that.” He was looking at Yuri in a shit-eating sort of way that reminded him a bit of when Katsuki was having a rare moment of self-confidence.

“Oh shut up,” he pushed Beka away and returned to the bed, not really hurt but a little ticked off anyway. Okay, maybe he understood a little bit why Beka had been upset by him laughing, it wasn’t really a nice feeling. “And I’m sorry for laughing, I guess, it caught me off guard.”

“We’re a couple of idiots,” Otabek laughed, joining him but still sitting far enough away that they couldn’t easily touch.

“Not idiots,” Yuri snapped petulantly.

“Just, uh, a couple, then?” The reply sounded… hopeful, and Yuri groaned, flopping back and covering his rapidly reddening face with one hand.

“I hate this, it’s fucking stupid, why is this even a thing?” He whined.

Otabek’s face appeared in his field of vision, mostly obscured by Yuri’s long, slender fingers. His expression was gentle, but he didn’t say anything. As always, patiently waiting for Yuri to come to terms with whatever shit was going on in his head on his own. He wasn’t going to force the issue, and Yuri was sure that even after this entire, humiliating conversation, if he said no, Beka would back off immediately with no hard feelings. He knew Yuri wasn’t good at expressing his emotions in a healthy way, or dealing with people in general. But the thought of leaving here, after all this, without a resolution? Made his stomach flip unpleasantly.

“Sure, fine, whatever.” Yuri’s face burned.

“We~ll, if you’re not into it,” Otabek answered in a sing-song voice that was eerily reminiscent of that asshole JJ, “don’t let me force you into anyth-”

Yuri cut him off with a kiss so fast and light it was barely there and then, realising what he just did, flipped over and buried his face in the pillow in mortification.

There were a few beats of stunned silence.

Then, Otabek’s hand settled on the back of his head carefully, stroking his hair. Top of his head, slowly, slowly, down to the nape of his neck. Then the hand was gone for a second, before returning back to the top of his head. It was _so_ relaxing. Yuri would have started purring, if he could. He cracked open one eye, but Otabek was still a little too far behind him to be seen. He’d moved slightly closer to reach, but not quite close enough.

“Feels nice,” he mumbled into the pillow, not sure if it was even audible.

“Mm-hm,” Beka rumbled in agreement. He dug his fingers lightly into Yuri’s hair, combing it through. It tugged pleasantly on Yuri’s scalp and he stretched with a happy sigh. He felt kinda floaty, like every sensation was reduced to the sound and sensation of Beka running his fingers through his hair. The faint sounds of fabric as Otabek moved, the swish of Yuri’s hair when he ran his fingers through it, everything else faded away until he was focussed solely on those things.

Finally he felt able to turn and look at Beka.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Yuri reluctantly pushed himself up and sat cross-legged in front of Otabek.

“Wanna, uhm… try that again?”

Yuri squinted at Beka’s pink face, not catching on _at all._

“More hair petting?” He tilted his head and frowned, completely baffled.

“No, I mean the. Never mind.” Otabek’s face was as red as Yuri was sure his had been just moments ago, and _finally_ he got it.

“Oh my god you can say _kiss_ Beka,” he laughed.

“You panicked so hard you hid in a pillow for like half an hour and _now_ you’re all confident? Allah save me from Russian dicks,” Otabek rolled his eyes.

“I thought the whole point was that you _wanted_ my di-”

Otabek turned the tables on him, cutting him off with a kiss just as Yuri had done to him earlier. They really were a couple of dumbasses. Otabek, however, wasn’t as shy as Yuri. This wasn’t a measly peck just to shut him up. The moment their lips touched Otabek slid his hand to the back of Yuri’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair and stroking his scalp lightly. He put his other hand on Yuri’s waist, sliding himself forward so that they were side by side, thighs pressed together. It was a little clumsy, but Yuri sighed into it and threw his arms around Beka’s neck. When several hours had passed - well, several seconds that _felt_ like hours - Beka pulled away just far enough to rub the side of his nose against Yuri’s.

“I’ve wanted to do that for _months_.”

“So have I. Fuck, why did we spend the last two days doing _not this_.”

Otabek hummed and leaned in to kiss him again. His lips were so soft, the way Yuri’s lips were. Skaters took good care of their bodies, and being in such cold environments all the time they went through a lot of lip balm. He smelled lovely too, the faint scent of his aftershave and the smell of his makeup remover combining to make something that was oddly pleasant. Yuri hung on to him for dear life, half expecting him to vanish into thin air the moment he let go. They separated again, and Yuri sighed happily. He felt like he was on top of the world.

“So…” Beka started, leaning back to look Yuri in the face, “can I start calling you ‘Yuryim’ now?”

Yuri grabbed the pillow and beat Otabek with it. He wasn’t as strong, but he was lightning quick and Beka was laughing and fending off the blows as they rained down on him.

“I _knew_ that wasn’t just a misheard slur, you fuck! You fucking lying fucking piece of shit!” Yuri roared, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He dropped the pillow off the side of the bed and began attacking Beka with kisses instead, showering his face and neck with them until Otabek finally pushed him gently away.

“Well, are you gonna tell me what it means then, asshole?”

“It means ‘my Yuri’, in Kazakh. I was really hoping you wouldn’t think to Google it…”

“Oh my god I’m so fucking stupid, of course I could have Googled it,” Yuri groaned, settling down on his side of the bed with a yawn and patting Beka’s side.

“You’re not stupid.”

“Sure, sure. So the equivalent would be, what, Bek...am?” Yuri wracked his brain for his limited Kazakh knowledge.

“That’s right. See? _Not_ stupid.” Beka lay down beside him, settling a hand on his waist.

“Hm. I like it. Okay, you can call me that.” A sudden thought occurred to him and he made an undignified whining noise, and covered his face with his hands. “Oh _hell_ the press are going to have a _field day_. If they even believe us. The _fans._ We’re dead meat.”

“We’ll deal with that when we get to it, Yuryim. No point in worrying about it now.” Otabek’s eyes had already slid closed, and Yuri’s heart fluttered at the new pet name.

“Okay, Bekam, I trust you.” He threw the covers over them both, and then snuggled in close until his nose was touching the hollow of Beka’s throat. He dropped a small kiss there and stretched out an arm to smack the light switch above the bed. The emotional rollercoaster had finally worn them both down, and they fell into an easy, dreamless sleep.

 

Now that they had finally got things figured out between them, it was hard to act like normal again. Yuri texted Mila half a dozen thumbs-up emojis, and she sent him a voice clip of her screeching like a fucking banshee. That was probably enough for now. He didn’t want to deal with Viktor or the others reactions just yet, and she wasn’t going to start telling people on his behalf. He and Beka had decided not to mention it right now, at least until the Grand Prix was over. They wanted at least a few weeks to enjoy their new relationship alone. And if they stood a little closer than usual, who would notice? Well, probably their fans, who were looking for absolutely any possible indication that they were ‘still’ dating.

Yuri thought they were doing well, too. And best of all, now that he was out of his crush-induced funk he was skating better than he had all year. Unfortunately… the same was also true of Otabek. He managed to maintain the single point margin for Skate America, and then at NHK closed the gap even further so that Yuri managed to win by less than half a point. He had pulled Beka into an alley on their walk back to their hotel and kissed him senseless for ten full minutes because he couldn’t keep his pride from spilling over. The two of them were the highest scoring skaters going in to the Grand Prix Final.

Despite his long-standing grudge against JJ, Yuri felt a little disappointed when he received the news that the Canadian skater was withdrawing because his wife was about to give birth to their first child and he didn’t think a medal was worth missing that experience. Yuri didn’t really understand, but he could respect it. He sent Bella a condolence card this time, but also an enormous gift basket of newborn baby things, which Otabek helped him pick out. He put both their names on the card for that and ignored JJ’s questioning texts about it.

 

_I don’t care how many shocked and winky face emojis you send me Loseroy im not telling you shit_

 

Which, really, was all the confirmation he needed to give.

In JJ’s absence, and to everyone’s surprise, Phichit Chulanont took bronze in the final. He’d been steadily improving his score and had made it to the final the previous year too, but had fallen short of a podium finish.

Otabek broke Katsuki’s Free Skate World Record and took gold, leaving Yuri with silver.

Yuri kissed him on the podium, consequences be damned.

“Well, you _said_ you didn’t mind if I beat you.” Beka was beaming from ear to ear with the brightest smile Yuri had ever seen on him.

“If it’s you, I don’t mind at all,” he answered, unable to keep his eyes off him.

They apologised to Phichit afterwards, especially since they both had to spend almost the entire of the press conference answering ‘no comment’ and trying to steer the conversation back to _actual fucking skating_. Phichit was apparently secretly Team Otayuri, though, and insisted that it was fine and he was just happy his ship had sailed, and that he got to be on the podium when it happened.

Yuri sent Alex from the Skate America hotel a gift basket of exotic tea and coffee, remembering that she had sent them up some from her personal collection and that they’d seemed very high quality. He didn’t bother with a card or explaining why, but that mix-up with the rooms had probably been the catalyst they needed to get their shit together, so even though it wasn’t really her ‘fault’, she’d been nice to them and he felt like doing something nice for her in return.

Things were… decidedly not magical, or perfect. Long-distance relationships were difficult, and neither of them were the best at communication. But they were trying hard, and that made up for the distance. Mila had been right, in the end; nothing really changed, since the majority of the things they had already been doing carried over into their romantic relationship. It wasn’t easy, by any means, but it was… eas _ier_ , perhaps. They still had Worlds to look forward to, and once Lilia and Yakov had gotten over lecturing him (What if you break up, Yurotchka? What if he breaks your heart, Yurotchka? What if you break his? How will you be able to skate with him there? Have you learned nothing from Georgi, Yurotchka? And so on…) they agreed that a happy Yuri was much more productive than a brooding Yuri. Even his usual waspishness had improved, and Katsuki remarked that love was a good look on him.

Yuri threatened to stab him with a skate.

He called Otabek and told him he loved him that night.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a 3-5k simple little gift fic for an exchange. I was confident I could tell the story I wanted to in that short of a time. Sadly, Yuri and Otabek had OTHER FUCKING IDEAS. They kept taking it off on tangents and I was powerless to stop them. 
> 
> I was given the following as a framework for this fic, in a number of fandoms, but in the end I chose YOI. I started writing another fic in a different fandom, which I may or may not finish as a bonus gift xD
> 
> "Humor, fluff. I love all of the ridiculous cliched romantic tropes like fake dating, didn't realize they were in love all along, bed sharing, locked in together in a small place, etc. If that's not your thing then surprise me."
> 
> Fortunately, all of those things are totally my jam, so woo hoo! I hope you enjoy it McB and that it was worth the extended wait ^^;


End file.
